


Fleet as the Wind

by Lady_Juno



Series: Love at First Sight [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Love at First Sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Juno/pseuds/Lady_Juno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrían travels to Imladris with her parents, and encounters Elrond for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleet as the Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [die_wiederkehr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_wiederkehr/gifts).
  * Inspired by [He loved her though he said nothing of it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747592) by [die_wiederkehr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_wiederkehr/pseuds/die_wiederkehr). 



The horses couldn't have gone slower if they had dragged their hooves in the mud. Celebrían was sure that she could reach Imladris quicker if she dismounted and WALKED there. This thought was, of course, utterly ridiculous. A sideways glance told her that her father, Lord Celeborn of Lorien, was still deep in conversation with the emissary from Harad, a dark-skinned elf with a cheerful voice and heavy-lidded eyes.

Celebrían let her gaze linger on her father. Truly, he was only a very little taller than she, with shoulders barely a hand-span broader, and the same sort of luminously silver hair that had her christened the Silver Lady of Lorien. A flattering title, but uncalled for, she thought. After all, the trees of Lorien needed only one lady, and her mother was more than enough lady for that on her own, thank you kindly.

_Impatience is unbecoming a lady, pîn gil._

Celebrían knew better than to tense or twitch, or give any outward sign that she'd heard her mother's voice in her mind. Galadriel was not usually one to joke, but if Celebrían gave her fodder, she'd hear no end of it. She did her best not to blush with the knowledge that her mother had heard that last thought about her being 'more than enough.' It wasn't altogether flattering.

_Don't be silly, Emel. I wish for nothing but our safe arrival._

A swift glance told her that her mother was apparently absorbed in a conversation with the envoy from Imladris, a relatively young elf by the name of Lindir, and she indulged in a soft sigh. How in the world could her mother look so focused on one person when she was actually speaking to two folk at once?

_It is a skill developed with age, pîn gil. You'll get the hang of it eventually._ There was a merry smile in Galadriel's mental voice, though outwardly, she wore an expression of utmost gravity. Lindir, at least, seemed delighted to have such a rapt audience, and Celebrían had to admit that his voice had a very pleasant, musical lilt.

The clear, mellow horn call that announced the arrival of new traveling companions was unlooked-for, but gladly met. The lord and lady paused on the road and watched with interest as a small hunting party emerged from the trees. The newcomers' horses steamed in the cool afternoon air, and as the beasts were urged toward them, Celebrían noted that each rider was clad in armor, and at least one was injured. In her life, she had rarely felt fear, and she didn't now. Deeply concerned, she lifted herself in her saddle, gripping her reins tightly. To her credit, the little white mare under her neither shied nor shifted, but remained steady under her restless rider.

"My lords, you are come from battle?" Her gaze lingered on the injured one, whose arm was bound to his side and stripped of the stiff leather armor that protected the rest of his body. His was the only obvious injury, but by the way the others moved, she sensed there was pain here.

"We come, my lady, from victory. An orc pack strayed too close to the valley. They will not make that mistake again."

She couldn't immediately tell which of them had spoken. As each elf removed his helm, she could see they were all of noble bearing. Indeed, if it hadn't been for the circlet of silver on one dark head, she may not have known which was their leader. But when she looked on him, Celebrían felt her heart give a most curious twist. His eyes were grey, penetrating as the stars, and full of wisdom. How many years he must have seen to burden him so? She immediately knew that this was a man she could trust, though she wasn't sure why.

"Lord Elrond!" Lindir looked flustered, and Celebrían saw that he, too, was looking at the grey-eyed elf. She felt as though snow was collecting in her stomach, and shivered. Elrond? Elrond Peredhil, son of Elwing, Lord of Imladris? Lindir, however, took no notice of her surprise (if, indeed, she'd shown it at all). "If I had known-"

"It would have made no difference, Lindir." Elrond was smiling, his helm tucked under his arm. "Come, let us ride together. The danger has passed, and the day is still fine."

"But, my lord!" Lindir sounded positively appalled. As Celebrían sank back into her saddle, she came to the conclusion that the envoy was worried about his master's appearance. In any case, Lindir was fussing over Elrond, trying to straighten his cloak and remove the dark stains of orc-blood from his armor. Elrond didn't protest, but laughed. It was a warm, welcoming sound, and Celebrían found herself smiling in spite of herself.

After that, the journey went by quickly, as though the horses they rode were as fleet as the wind that dried their flanks. Elrond rode beside Celeborn, and the two spoke in light, cheerful tones. Celebrían rode behind them with her mother, and did her utmost not to stare.

"The streams here are beautiful, aren't they, Emel? The waterfalls sound like they're laughing." She looked purposefully off to the side, watching the cascading water foam and sing as it tripped over levels of smooth stone.

"Yes, they are. I remember, some summers before you were born, watching the artisans as they carved the channels for some of these streams." Galadriel's twinkling blue gaze rested on her, and Celebrían could feel the brush of her mother's mind against her own.

"They had to redirect them?"

"Some of them, yes. To make the paths smooth and wide enough for horses." The Lady of Lorien said nothing about the handsome lord of the valley, but there was no doubt in Celebrían's mind that she knew. Her mother always knew.

Elrond separated from them at the stairs with a bow and a sincere apology, as he had been gone most of the day already, and there was business to see to. They were, however, welcome to make themselves at home. Rooms were ready for them, and Lindir would show them where they could go to freshen up and rest as needed.

"I will see you all at supper." He bowed again, and his clear grey gaze rested briefly on Celebrían. She shivered, but couldn't bring herself to look away. He was the one that shifted his gaze to another, and Celebrían remembered to breathe. She almost dreaded this feeling, and how it rose up to consume her from the inside. At the same time, it was possibly the most wonderful thing she'd ever felt. And she had no idea what it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> pîn gil - little star  
> emel - mother


End file.
